Staccato
by Ahybridmoment
Summary: Years after the death of Voldemort and the fall of the death eaters, the wizarding world has returned to normal as Hogwarts opens its doors to new students.


Broadway was bustling, humming, and rattling. The street was alive with the dulcet tones of passers by, the almost choral blaring of taxi cab horns, and underneath it all, the soft sound of a guitar fluttered from the sidewalk. Jacob looked up as the commuters emerged from the subway station, and he played with more vigor as they strode past, dropping their loose change in his empty guitar case. His smile grew wide, and he closed his eyes as the tips of his fingers danced on the strings. He could feel it again; his home was here, coming closer as his calloused fingers marched up and down the fret board. He felt as if a door was opening in his heart, inch by inch, almost enough for him to squeeze through…

SNAP!! The shutting of the door sounded disturbingly familiar to a broken guitar string. Jacob's eyes fluttered open and he realized they were one in the same. Any other New York street musician would simply mutter a small curse under his breath at this little blockade in business and then go about remedying it, Jacob was different though. He desperately needed money. Yeardley was unpleasant enough being the begrudging landlord for an eleven year old, struggling, and usually homeless musician, but tonight would be a new era in his mean streak. Tonight, he'd kick Jacob out for sure, and their was nowhere else to go after this, except back on the map, to foster homes and untold misery. It was because of these circumstances that the small curse that was to be muttered became exceedingly amplified.

"MOTHERFUCK!!"

He had barely even begun to play before being silenced. His guitar case held only a few stray quarters, not near enough to get another guitar string, and even if it had been, their wasn't much time before Yeardley would come looking for him.

Jacob's mind wandered to desperate ideas, ideas that one only finds in his thoughts when stranded in the city with no money or anyone to trust. Could he really bring himself to do it though, to steal for his own life?

Jacob picked up his guitar and placed it gingerly in its case, closing it and snapping the locks shut. He turned to face up the street, Times Square glistening and shining even in the daylight only a few blocks away. His eyes darted amongst the crowd for a moment, and then he saw his chance.

She was a woman, about as old as his mother would probably be if she was alive. She was striding along pleasantly with her purse hanging limply on her shoulder. It would be so easy to get away with it, it was sad. Jacob's heart pounded against his ribs as he picked up his case and began to follow her, almost running to try and keep up with the woman's brisk pace.

Jacob resisted the urge to turn into the alley ways along the street and kept his pace, gaining on the woman with every step. She was beginning to slow down and Jacob's fingers came so close to the bag he could've swiped it in a moment and she would've never even noticed, but fate as it seems, held different plans for him.

The woman quickly darted left as Jacob lurched for the handbag. The woman crossed into the street waving at someone, completely unaware of the taxi cab that was hurtling towards her, but Jacob saw it, and the remorse for what he'd attempted to do hit him quick and hard. It felt as if a lightning bolt had shot through him, coursing through his heart, into his veins, and up his arm making it shoot outward towards the woman as if his body had some primal urge to save her.

What happened next, no one on the street could explain quite easily, as the manhole cover that lay nestled in the street blasted from it's hole and soared a good twenty feet in the air and came crashing down on the hood of the taxi cab, grabbing the confused and distracted drivers attention quickly enough to apply the brakes and come to a jerking stop mere inches from the now shaking and befuddled woman.

Jacob, after staring at his hand for a good thirty seconds, realized that this would be a good time to leave. Jacob turned on the spot and ran quickly down the nearest alley way he could find.

Why? Why did this always happen to him? Things moving on their own, weird looking creatures in the sky and if he really thought about it he could turn his own hair purple! It never bothered him too much before, usually because he had far too much on his mind to occupy himself about why such strange things had been happening to him all his life. He had to grow up quick, that's how he lived, and any adult that had ever crossed Jacob as if he were a child learned quickly not to do so again. But for a moment, Jacob felt a pang inside him, perhaps for something similar to a parent, someone who could tell him what was going on, why he was like this.

As he turned a corner in the alley, his apartment building loomed into view. The red brick building towered over him ominously, it's rusting fire escape creaked and groaned as he approached. He would need to use the back entrance to avoid Yeardley for now.

Strapping the case to his back, Jacob hoisted himself up the fire escape toward his apartment on the third floor. The feeble structure was shaking a little under his weight, seeing as Yeardley had neglected do any work on it in his ten years of being a super. Jacob finally arrived at the landing of his apartment and climbed through the window into the kitchen.

The kitchen looked the same as all the other rooms in the apartment, barren with only the most necessary furnishings. Jacob laid his case on the kitchen floor and flopped down beside it. He stared up into the ceiling that surely had water rotting through it and suddenly felt like falling asleep. His eyelids slowly closed as he released a sigh.

It seemed as if he was only asleep for a minute, when he was awoken by the fluttering of wings. Jacob sat up, blinking in the sunlight pouring through the window, and silhouetted against it, he could make out the figure of a dark grey owl, cocking its head inquisitively at him, with an envelope tucked into its beak.

"What? Is UPS having budget cuts?" He quipped at it for no particular reason.

The bird hopped from the window sill into the kitchen and fluttered its way to his side, motioning the letter in it's beak toward his hand.

"Alright already. Probably just some random piece of trash anyway." Jacob took the letter from its beak and glanced over it. The address shimmered in the sunlight as Jacob's eyes swept over it.

Jacob Quentin Eisley

3489 Broadway Apt # 302

Kitchen

New York City, New York

USA

Jacob looked up quickly from the letter. He glanced at the window, looking to see if anyone was watching. How did this letter get to him? How did they know he was in his kitchen at that very moment? Who sent it, and more importantly, what did they want from him?

He turned the letter over in his hands, continuing to look around feverishly, until the wax seal on the letter caught his eye. It was red wax, the color of wine, with a coat of arms with what looked to be four animals on it, a badger, and a bird of some kind, a snake, and a lion. His eyes drifted slightly upward and he read the ribbon that floated above the coat of arms.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

It had to be some kind of joke, though if it was, it was the most complicated and unusual joke that anyone had ever played on Jacob. He tore open the seal and took out a small cream colored letter and unfolded it. He read it through once, barely able to register what it was saying, it was so bizarre. After reading it once more and not being any less bewildered, he tossed it onto the top of his guitar case. He breathed a nervous laugh, trying to shake it off. How dumb did these people think he was? Training an owl to deliver a weird letter saying that he was invited to enroll in some school for sorcerers! He laughed again, as it began to sound more ludicrous. They hadn't even thought up a good name to sign it with. He picked up the letter and laughed again as he read the name of the so called headmaster, Minerva McGonagall!

"They've got some weird drugs in this city, that's for sure." He said as he threw it back on the guitar case.

"I didn't believe it either when I first got it."

Jacob wheeled around to the window where the voice had come from and found himself staring at a man, still young but definitely older than he was, with round glasses and a mess of black hair.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded.

"Name's Harry." The man said, smiling widely at Jacob as if he knew something that Jacob was ignorant of.

"What are you doing in my window?"

"I'm here to explain things a little." He said as he hopped down into the kitchen and started looking around.

"You can't just barge into somebody's apartment!"

"Well, seeing as you live here illegally, I wouldn't really say it's yours, but we'll just keep that to ourselves." He said with a sly smile. "Care for a drink?"

With that, the man drew two bottles filled with amber liquid and set them on the counter. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a long stick and pointed it at the pair of bottles. He flicked the stick without a word, and suddenly the corks of the two bottles popped out and came to rest on the counter top. Harry handed a bottle to Jacob who was staring in disbelief at the twig in the mans hand, and then took a long swig.

"How did you do that?" Jacob asked, gesturing to the corks on the counter top.

"Magic." Harry said quickly, "and you can do it too. Well, not right now, but soon. Drink up, its good stuff."

Jacob sipped obediently. The guy was right, it wasn't bad. He took a swig from the bottle and felt warmth tingling through him. This guy wasn't so bad. Sure he'd made his way into Jacob's home completely uninvited, but he brought some damn good beer with him.

"Its butter beer, made in England," Harry said, setting his bottle down onto the counter.

"So, you're here about that letter I just got?" Jacob asked.

"Yes, and to take you there if you want to go."

"To this Hogwarts place? It's real?"

"Very real," said Harry.

Jacob was still not quite convinced. As much as he disliked his current situation, he wasn't up to the idea of being tricked into something.

"Do something else. Do some more magic," Jacob commanded as he leaned against the wall.

"Alright, take out your guitar."

Jacob bent down and unlatched the case; he withdrew his guitar, the broken string still dangling limply.

"Reparo," Harry said as he flicked what Jacob now believed to be his "wand" at the guitar. The two halves of the string rose up by themselves and joined together again in a single fluid movement. Jacob stared at the string in disbelief and plucked it. It was repaired, a little out of tune, but otherwise, completely as it had been before.

"Believe me now?" Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jacob didn't answer. He placed the guitar back in its case and relatched it securely.


End file.
